


worse things in the world (The Going All The Way Remix)

by traumschwinge



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bisexuality, Courtship, Developing Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Friends to Lovers, Marriage Proposal, No Smut, Nobility, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumschwinge/pseuds/traumschwinge
Summary: When Erik got told he'd have to be the the escort of a débutante his mother picked, he'd feared for the worst. He's partially right. The girl he meets is definitely picked in the hopes of a future marriage. He just had no idea how well he'd come to like her almost instantly.





	worse things in the world (The Going All The Way Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nextraordinaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nextraordinaire/gifts).
  * Inspired by [worse things in the world](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854678) by [nextraordinaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nextraordinaire/pseuds/nextraordinaire). 



> Great many thanks to my beta <3

Erik adjusted the bowtie around his neck for the umpteenth time. The whole getup he’d been forced into was bothering him. It wasn’t just the bowtie constricting his neck, or the cummerbund squeezing what felt like every important part of his torso but the lungs. Every breath took effort because of those. The stiff material of his shirt and jacket—only the heavens knew what they had been starched with to feel that way—hindered every movement. Even his undershirt had the distinct feeling to it that it was meant to inconvenience him.

Or, more likely, they were all meant to make the escorts at this ball stand as straight and in as perfect a form as possible.

Next to the entrance, a moderator was introducing girls one after another. There was a large empty space left for them to walk at the arms of their fathers. That would be followed by a curtsy on their own in the center of the room. At last, they’d be handed over to the escort they’d been assigned so they could have a dance later. For every single one of the girls, the giant double doors were pulled open by a page on each side and closed after.

It had been interesting for the first two or three times, but by now, Erik was getting just as bored of watching as the other young men around him, waiting for “their” debutante to be presented so they could try and have a flirt with a girl that was even authorized by their parents. In Erik’s very much unwanted and unheeded opinion—his mother’s exact words when he’d voiced it—it was both a farce and a giant waste of everyone’s time. 

Still, he’d gone to every single refresher lesson preparing him for the ball, just like he had gone to the manners and dancing classes a couple of years prior. It was one thing to complain to his mother, it was another entirely to oppose her on matters she’d decided she was the sole expert. Trading her only child off to marriage like a commodity over tea with other women of her social standing was apparently one of those matters. He didn’t even know exactly who he was waiting for. While his mother had told him a name, there had been no meeting between them before.

Erik was just about to test if he could still sleep standing upright with his eyes open, when he overheard her name. “...she’d rather take martial arts lessons than going to dance classes,” one of the boys behind him whispered. Erik did his best to keep a straight face while listening in on them.

“I wish she had, honestly,” the boy’s friend replied. “I had the decided displeasure of having to have dance classes with her and let me tell you, my feet will never be the same. Poor sod who’s ended up with her, if you ask me.”

“My sister told me to watch out for her dress,” the first boy scoffed. “Apparently it’s just barely within regulation. And missing fabric in places.”

“No way.” The friend was almost loud enough to alert other people, so he quickly lowered his voice, low enough that Erik had trouble making out what he was saying. “-t least she’s not… suit…”

Slightly shaking his head, Erik returned his attention to the moderator. If he’d memorized the order of debutantes right, his escortee would be either the next or the one after. And besides, he’d heard enough gossip for an evening, if he didn’t want to turn around and punch some gentlemanly behavior into somebody.

“Lady Moira MacTaggert.” The announcer’s booming voice echoed through the ball room. The pages once more pulled the doors open, just fast enough for the slow strides of the debutante and her father. Just like the girls before her, she was wearing the omnipresent, uniform, white from head to toe. Just, unlike the girls before her, the dress didn’t cling to her every curve, didn’t emphasize them like they were asets. Instead, the front of the dress was clearly carefully constructed to obscure as much of her chest as possible, leaving it all up for guesses. She hadn’t exactly been able to escape a cut pronouncing her waist, but it was clear she wasn’t wearing a corsage under her dress. Even the skirt was far more straight than the other girls’, preventing her from looking like her hips were wider than her shoulders.

All in all, Erik would have been impressed even if she hadn’t glided the way from the door to the announcer with a rare sort of grace.

When her father released her from his arm, Erik, as instructed, made his way closer, waiting for her to finish the curtsy. That was the first time he managed to get a proper glance at her face, too. A perfect, yet neutral, indifferent mask, crafted to please without delighting the audience. Erik was impressed.

As meant to be, Erik was waiting patiently with his arm poised for her to take. It went perfectly, just as they had practiced in class. That was, until they turned to walk over to the other pairs waiting for the dancing to start and several women gasped in shock. It took all Erik had not to turn and simply walk on as if nothing had happened, against his curiosity. Moira just walked on like nothing had happened, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

They reached the spot where they were meant to wait. The gasps had turned into whispers by then, the shock too big for discussions to wait until after all debutantes had been introduced. An uneasy feeling was slowly creeping its way up Erik’s back.

“‘m sorry you got stuck with me,” Moira suddenly murmured, so softly only Erik would be able to hear her. “I don’t even want to be here.”

“Me neither,” Erik admitted just as low. “Let’s see this torture through to the end together, shall we? Can’t be helped either way.”

From the corner of her eye, without turning her head, she shot him a  _ look.  _ It looked like she meant to respond, but then thought better of it. “You’re w- ...unexpectedly lenient.”

Erik shrugged. “There’s worse things in the world than the prospect of dancing with a woman who knows how to carry herself.” He couldn’t help notice that behind them, more people had started whispering. He repeatedly heard the words “ _ Moira _ ”, “ _ back _ ”, and “ _ indecent _ ”, but decided to ignore it. Instead, he focused on the fact that even though Moira was shaking her head, there still was a faint smile on her lips.

It took a while, but eventually, the announcer had presented the last debutante. By then, Erik was just about dozing on his feet, having turned out the world around him. Moira had to have noticed, mostly because she subtly pinched him in the arm, just as the announcer again thanked everyone for their presence and pointed out how pretty and graceful this year’s debutantes were. Erik tried to glower at Moira, but she just batted her eyelashes as him, pretending she had no idea what his problem was.

The open space where the debutantes had been presented widened as the onlookers retreated further. As they had been instructed, the debutantes and their escorts moved into place, taking up their spot in the formation for the opening dance. Protocol dictated that first, before the orchestra started properly, the escorts would bow to their debutantes. Erik felt incredibly stiff doing it, and he thought he could hear Moira laugh softly when he was looking down. Then, the debutantes would curtsy. Once more, Erik was amazed by the control Moira had over her own body. Once the protocol was satisfied, they finally got to assume their poses for the dance.

The moment Erik put his hand on Moira’s back, he had to force himself not to pull it back in shock. Through the fabric of the glove he was wearing, he couldn’t feel any other fabric. If not for the glove, he’d be touching her bare skin. He could feel the blood draining from his face.

Moira forcefully stepping on his foot, hard enough that it couldn’t have been an accident, got him to move, even though it did not stop his thoughts from spinning. The dress was backless. She was wearing a backless dress. Backless. No wonder everyone had been staring and whispering. She could at least have warned him at some point.

“Literally everyone on this party has said something about my dress,” Moira whispered as they danced. “Are you honestly this surprised?”

“I tried to tune them out,” Erik snapped back at her. “I’m not really all that much for the slander that passes as small talk around here, you know?” She’d stepped on his foot, this time on accident, so he tried to ignore it.

“Slander?” Her lips twitched, but somehow, the smile looked much more grim this time around. “What did you hear about me, then?”

Erik pressed his lips together. Half the things he’d heard, he’d rather not repeat to Moira’s face, despite the fair assumption she’d heard all of them before anyway. So, instead, he settled with, “You’re an alleged bad dancer.”

That seemed to amuse her again. “And? Does reality hold up?”

Erik tried to avoid her glance. “...yes.” He mainly said so because she’d stepped on his foot, again.

“I think you’re just bad at getting your feet out of my way,” Moira replied, smiling innocently. “If I’d lead, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Is that so?” It was a challenge. Erik knew it was meant as one. Too bad Erik had never learned how to pass up on a challenge. It didn’t matter how badly it’d reflect on his standing and how it might damage the masculinity of anyone else in his place. “Go on, then, you lead.”

“Right now?” It seemed he’d surprised her. Good, that was one point in his favor as far as Erik was concerned.

“Right now,” he affirmed.

“You realize other people can tell who’s leading if they watch closely enough?”

“I don’t care. Are you trying to chicken out because you really can’t dance at all?” They were almost through the first song, so Erik added, “If you lead now, you only have to do it for a minute, but if you wait, you’ll have to lead the entire next song, chicken.”

“I’m no chicken.” Moira tightened her grip on Erik’s shoulder painfully. He pretended she hadn’t, even though it felt like it’d leave a bruise for sure. “The entire next song. I lead and you will follow.”

“Yeah, sure. If you actually know how to lead, that is.” Wise or not, egging her on seemed to at least be the fun option. Talking to her in general was surprisingly easy. Erik almost started to think he liked her. Which was bad, because that meant his mother’s meddling actually worked.

The song ended, just as Moira tried to step on Erik’s foot again on purpose. He narrowly avoided her heel. As if nothing had happened they exchanged a bow and a curtsy, only for Erik to bow to her again right away, indicating to everyone that he meant to dance with her at least one more time. Predictably, nobody tried to steal Moira away. Most were too busy still staring and gossiping about her in fake shock, and the rest simply didn’t seem to care.

“Well, then, ready to be the girl?” Moira teased. She even put her hand on his waist in an imitation of his earlier pose.

Rolling his eyes, Erik put his hand from her waist on her shoulder. Luckily, their height difference wasn’t great enough to make it awkward. “Ready to man up?” he teased back.

To Erik’s surprise, the corner of her mouth twitched upward in response to his teasing. She didn’t respond verbally, however, as the orchestra started playing the next song just at that moment. It was a similar song as the last one, a Waltz just fast enough so neither could have any idea about it being slow dancing and yet slow enough that even the worst dancers wouldn’t get flustered.

While Erik still lagged behind with his thoughts lost, Moira immediately started to dance again in flow with the music, her motions confident and efficient, as if she had no doubt in the world that Erik would follow her lead. It was easy to do so, much easier than Erik had thought. She evidently knew what she was doing, not only guiding his step with hers, but also his body with subtle shifts of her weight and in the pressure of her hands. Had Erik first looked at their feet to make sure he was doing everything right still, he soon abandoned that in favor of looking at Moira instead.

She had her eyes almost closed, either just listening to the music or, just like him, not comfortable enough yet to make eye contact. This close, he could see somebody had clearly made an effort with her make-up and the jewelry, probably in the hopes that it could somewhat offset the dress. Discrete as it was, Erik somehow doubted she’d have gone for peach eyeshadow and blush herself, not to mention the almost too nude looking shade of pink they’d put on her lips. The jewelry looked new and expensive, but it had been made in an old fashioned style—as if the dress had demanded something new to be bought, even though the new should give off an air of old grandeur.

“Did your mother dress you up for today?” Meant as a mere inquiry, Erik made sure his tone held at least a hint of insult, should she decide not to want to seriously discuss the matter.

Moira snorted softly. “No, I dressed myself. She just added the… holiday decorations.”

Erik pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t laugh. “And the colors too?”

She nodded. Then, she quirked an eyebrow. “You, on the other hand, seem to have been dressed head to toe by your mother.” She slightly shook her head. “That and tradition. Whoever picked white ties on white shirts… well, he’s probably dead now, as should that fashion be.”

“So bad not even you’d want to wear it?” Erik smirked. He felt increasingly comfortable talking with her, but he was not yet sure just how far he could press matters. Nothing like trial and error, however, to find out.

“Hm, tempting offer. I’m sure you’d look stunning in my dress, even though it might be a little bit too short for you.” The hand she had on his hip squeezed briefly. “And I’m not sure your pants would fit over my hips. Just in general.”

He shrugged. “I’d prefer a less revealing dress, thank you. Not ready to show that much skin yet. What if it’d drive the womenfolk crazy, with all that bare, naked back on display?”

At that, Moira opened her eyes, blinking a couple of times. “Did you overhear my mother complaining about it?”

“No,” Erik laughed. “No, I didn’t. But I heard enough of that kind of bullshit to reproduce it, if need be.”

“So you don’t actually think that dress is too much?” Erik couldn’t quite tell if that edge in her voice was a warning or honest insecurity.

“I have no idea,” he ruled. “Haven’t seen it yet. But so far as I remember the dress code, you’re allowed. It’s white, it doesn’t have a cleavage at all, and it has a skirt down to your ankles.” He couldn’t help but smile. “Impressive, actually, it’s almost as if you’d picked the one weak spot in the rules.”

“Who says I didn’t?” she winked.

Erik laughed. “I thought so, it’s just nice to hear it confirmed.”

“Were you at least warned about me? So far as I care to know, I managed to build quite the reputation. And yet, when my mother said she’d found me an escort and I wouldn’t get a say, I was convinced she’d made plans with an equally desperate harp-” She stopped herself mid-word, to correct it to: “Concerned mother” Moira narrowed her eyes at him. “Is she paying you?”

“Oh, yes, she wired in your dowry two hours ago,” Erik joked. “As soon as this ball is over, I get to pack you up in the car and drive you far far away into forced marriage.”

She squeezed his hand she was holding in hers so hard for a moment that Erik feared she might break it. He tried not to react but still couldn’t help a wince. “Not funny.”

“No, not funny,” he agreed. He swallowed. She was still holding his hand too tight for comfort. “I’m sorry.” A sigh of relief as the pressure finally let up. “I think my mother is just happy she found somebody I might not ditch at the first possible opportunity.” He frowned. “I think she knows me too well.”

Moira looked at him curiously, as if she was contemplating several possible responses to that. In the end, she settled with playing coy. “So, you like me?”

“I allow you to twirl me across the dancefloor.” Erik smiled. “Do you really think I’d let that happen if I didn’t, just to save my toes?”

“I can still step on them with intent, you know?” She might have meant it as a threat, but it sounded more like banter now. “So…” Her tone changed to serious again. “Would you spend the rest of the evening with me, then? I’d hate to give our mothers false hope.” Sarcasm was dripping from each word. “But, I’d rather have you as an excuse to avoid everyone than to actually have to socialize more than needed.”

Erik shook his head, laughing softly. “False hope would be terrible. They might make us, I don’t know, spend more time together. That’d be horrid. I’d hoped I’d never have to exchange a word with you after the dances decency demands.”

“You’re actually an awful person, you know that?” She was laughing, too. And, even though it was so subtle Erik hadn’t noticed it earlier, leaning in on him far closer than she had at the beginning of the dance. But that could just as well be he himself closing the space.

“Right back at you.” He gently squeezed the hand that had hurt him just a minute earlier. “I think that’s why we like each other.”

“Oh, now you’re pressing it.” Moira laughed still. “But yeah, I guess we could agree to being friends.”

 

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

 

Erik knocked very, very carefully at the door to Moira’s room. He could hear the sound of angry pacing from inside. When he’d come up the stairs something had sounded like a crash. And there had been a second one when he’d been halfway down the hall. All in all, there were reasons for him to turn around, wish Lady MacTaggert a nice day and leave again.

Just as much as the text Moira had sent him was a reason to be worried enough to stay anyway.

“I think I’m required to ask if you’re at least decent before I come in,” Erik called out. “So, last chance to tell me to fu-” He cleared his throat, remembering just in time that there probably were servants listening and reporting on what he said to Moira’s mother. “Tell me to go away.”

“If my mother called you to convince me to change my mind, ever so kindly fuck off, Erik,” Moira shouted back. The pacing had stopped.

“I came because you texted me,” Erik protested. Her mother had tried to call him, then had called his, just when Erik had snatched his jacked and rushed out the door, ignoring the shout of his own mother about it. But he didn’t need to tell Moira that. “I’m worried.”

“I can make decisions for myself, you know?” From her tone and anger level, he wasn’t entirely sure if she actually talked to him or if she was just replaying the argument she’d undoubtedly had with her mother. “I don’t need anyone to make them for me.”

Erik wasn’t sure how to react. Most of the things he could think of saying would only make it worse. So, instead of all that, he pulled up the student housing information of their university and texted it to Moira. He could hear her phone chime. 

Just when he thought about asking again if he could come in without the threat of grievous bodily harm coming to him, she opened the door. “In,” she ordered, almost physically pulling him inside and shutting the door again after him, turning the key in its lock.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other, neither of them sure what to say or how to start the conversation. Eventually, Moira started to pace between the door and the window again. Erik, still feeling somewhat lost, opted to sit down on her bed, out of her way.

“So, you’re not here under orders to tell me not to go down with my plan and enroll in the ROTC program?” Moira asked without stopping or even look at him.

Opting for honesty above all else, Erik replied, “Your mother tried, but couldn’t reach me. The maid let me in. So I think your mother knows I’m here but she hasn’t told me to do anything.”

For a second, Moira glared at him. Then, she went back to pacing. “Fine. Not happy with it, but fine.” She sounded frustrated. “Do you  _ want  _ to stop me? You, yourself, without any orders from anyone? Without being asked.”

Erik had thought about that question exactly while he’d driven over. It wasn’t an easy one. “No. Not in principle, at least. I…” He pressed his lips together. “We’re friends, right? I mainly want to know you thought it through.”

“So you want to know if I planned that out of spite?” Moira stopped, facing Erik from about two meters away. 

Erik ignored the challenge she wanted him to take. “I’ve seen you at your Krav Maga competitions, remember? I’d never say you couldn’t do it. I just thought… two months ago you wanted to do something in the Social Sciences with me for a Minor.” He tried not to sound sulky but he had been looking forward to at least sharing one class with her. “You could have told me.”

That was enough of a catch on the wrong foot that Moira slightly deflated. “I... “ She shook her head. “I should have told you before telling it to my mother.”

Erik nodded gravely. “You should have. We could have your dorm application ready by now.”

“That’s your solution? Really?” She took a deep breath. “Dorm.”

“Dorm,” Erik repeated. “I’d be an acceptable solution, I’d say. Because if I remember your more than unfair deal with your mother, you’re free to do what you want until you’re either 21 or graduate from college.” Whether he meant it as unfair to him, because he had no such deal, or unfair to her, because she got to watch the gilded cage slowly close around her the older she got, he didn’t say.

“Mother would never just allow that,” Moira said doubtful. “Not like this, at least. Not with her already angry, either.”

Erik pulled a face. “Yeah, no, probably not.” He massaged the bridge of his nose. “Any concessions you’re willing to give her?”

“No.” Moira walked over and collapsed down on the bed next to him. Without really thinking about it, she leaned against him. If he’d been just a little bit more sure of her reaction, he’d have put an arm around her for comfort. “No, that’s not right. I don’t want to give her anything  _ on principle _ . But there’s always something, isn’t there?”

Erik let out a deep sigh. “I’m not going to convince you of something you don’t want to do.”

Attentive as always, Moira looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. “But?” she plainly asked.

“But, you know what’d guarantee her to give in to almost anything if you’d offer it?” If she hadn’t been leaning against him, Erik would have picked this moment to move away from her as subtly as possibly.

Moira’s face turned into a mask of disgust. “Get engaged? Over my dead body.”

“Well, fine then.” Erik shrugged. “I’ll remember that and never ask you for parent sanctioned dating again.”

“Okay, first off, our parents, as far as I can tell, already think we’re dating.” Moira had sat up, her legs crossed on the bed, body turned to Erik. She was glaring at him again. “And secondly, I’m not going to date your gay ass, even to play my mother. No.”

“You… what... “ Stunned, Erik tried to parse out what she’d just said. He held up a hand. “Wait. Is that a no to dating me in general, which is fine? Or is it a no because you think I’m gay?”

“Erik, I’m pretty sure I caught you on a date with a guy once. You being gay or not isn’t really up for debate here.” She huffed. “I’m not gonna play your beard for the rest of my fucking life, just because you think it’s a great idea to secure us both some freedom. I expect a little more than a sexless marriage of convenience.”

A bit hurt, not just in his pride, Erik couldn’t help but snap at her. He hadn’t snapped at her in over a year, but now he did. “Excuse you, you’ve been kissing girls left and right and just naturally expect me to keep mum about it  _ without even asking _ .”

“Are you threatening me now?” Moira bristled.

“No!” Erik hadn’t even noticed how loud they’d gotten until he basically screamed in her face. Faltering somewhat, he added much softer, “I’m just saying, I don’t like having to watch that and then get told that I cannot.”

Moira blinked. “I didn’t…” She took a deep breath. They both did. Calmed themselves, each on their own. Less volume. Less blood in their heads. More thinking. A calm conversation. Moira opened her eyes again and looked at Erik. “Okay, so. I don’t think it’s bad that you like men and you shouldn’t feel bad about it, or be made feel bad. Alright?”

Erik nodded, slowly. “I didn’t mean I’d say something about your lesbian dates, or whatever. I’d never. Not without your permission. But…” He took a deep breath. Somehow, this way around, it felt just as hard. He’d expected differently. “I’m pretty sure gay is the wrong word for what I am.” Another breath. Pushing through. “I’ve definitely interest in… well… women… you know? In that way, too.”

“ _ Bi _ -sexual, Erik,” Moira laughed. She sounded relieved. “People usually call that bisexual.” She shook her head. “So, you did ask me to… er… the full deal? Not just the beard option, but an actual relationship… thing? Between us? Instead of hanging out basically all the time anyway?”

Erik shrugged. “Well, yeah. Hang out as we do anyway and then have sex. Or something.”

“Or something,” Moira echoed. “Fucking hell, Erik. Don’t you know your way around words to charm a girl.”

“Oh, I thought I was charming you, not any girl,” Erik snorted.

She shook her head. “Thin ice, Erik. You only want me because I’m the closest you can get to an actual guy without your mother freaking out.”

“Psht, as if,” Erik rolled his eyes. “I’d never let a guy treat me like you do.”

“I’d hope so,” Moira laughed. She’d turned again and moved closer, her shoulder now touching Erik’s again, even though she wasn’t fully leaning into him again yet. “Would dating include the blanco permission to drive off anyone I don’t like when they flirt with you?”

Erik snorted. “You do that already anyway.”   
“Hm, so that’s a no,” Moira had adopted a businesslike tone. “How many dates a month would I get? Where’d you take me out to, Erik? What’s in it for me?”

“Two weekends for dates per month,” Erik replied. “And I’ll see what I can come up with. Probably clubs. Or we could go eat ice-cream in the afternoon.” He frowned. “Wait, we already do one of those.”

“Two date weekends?” Moira shook her head. “Stingy, so very stingy.”   
“Well, ok, I could just dictate all the dates, but I thought splitting with you would be a better idea.” Erik dared to look at her again. “Is this all to mean you’re considering it?”   
Moira didn’t move much. She just turned her face and leaned a bit up. For a second, she pressed her lips against his cheek, before she settled back against him. “I don’t know why, if we’re both down with it in principle, haven’t thought of that sooner,” she sighed. “Next time, can’t you just walk around with a sign that says ‘not strictly gay’ or something?”

“Oh, now it’s my fault?” The kiss had left a funny feeling in the pit of Erik’s stomach. At least, he hoped it was just that. “You could have told me you’re not exclusively into women, too.”

“True.” Moira sighed.”Very, very true.”   
Erik sighed. “May I…?” he mumbled before putting his arm around Moira once she’d nodded. “So, what’re we going to do now?”

“I tell my mother I’m moving to the dorm until I graduate?” Moira didn’t sound entirely sure. “And if she wants to stop me, I’ll offer her the possibility of us… getting engaged? Upon my, or your, graduation. Whichever is first. She might get so happy and confused about me mentioning a relationship to any man, let alone a man of the right class and standing, that she’d just agree to anything to keep me from breaking it off.”

“Maybe you could get a townhouse, or a flat out of it, instead of a dorm room,” Erik joked. “For premarital… ehm, I mean, social visits.”

“Sure you do.” Moira pinched him in the side, making him twitch away from her hand. “Are you sure you didn’t just propose that so you could get weekends away from home?”

Erik shrugged. “Hey, I’m not saying it wouldn’t have nice side effects for me, too.” He paused to think. “Speaking of which, without you doing a Minor with me, I could just do Economics. Engineering is all nice and well on its own, but I do need to get out of labs and away from construction programs from time to time. I don’t really want to be an engineer all my life, if I can help it.”

“Oh, eyeing management, are we now?” 

“My mother might think an university degree is just because I’d be bored otherwise and because it makes for a nice addition to my CV, but I always meant to use it.” Erik reconsidered his position. “Well, eventually, when I’m out of her house and far enough away from all that. And now I have to make room for being widowed young in my plan, too.”

He had noticed her reaching for something behind her back, but he was still surprised when the pillow hit him in the face. Surprised enough to lose his balance and fall back over onto the bed. Moira used that to climb on top of him, her knees left and right to the lower end of his ribcage, consciously or unconsciously avoiding kneeling over his lap.

Erik pointedly rolled his eyes at her before she could even open her mouth. “If you’re going to tell me you wouldn’t get deployed on a tour or four if you had the opportunity, can it. I’m not going to believe you anyway.”

“I do have better things to do than dying in some warzone,” Moira protested.

“But you wouldn’t even try to get out of being deployed.” Erik stated like it was fact. He had noticed she hadn’t denied it. “It’s okay. Just don’t expect me not to tease you for that.”

“Do you really think I’d become a career soldier?” He could tell she wasn’t sure if she should be surprised or happy or indignant.

Erik thought about it for a moment. “You? In a social vacuum without the family you were born into? Yes. You, as you are? Probably not. But I’m not ready to bet anything important on it.”

She shifted her weight forward, so she had to hold her body up with her arms. It brought her face much closer to Erik’s. Involuntarily, he put his hands on her waist. “Would you let me if I wanted to?”

“Is that really a question of letting you? I thought it was more about actively stopping you.” The topic was getting a bit too serious for Erik’s liking so he tried to make light of it. Deep inside, he was sure he wouldn’t stop her from anything, would let her do anything. But, if he’d be happy with it in the end, he couldn’t predict. That much he knew.

Moira shook her head. He was under the expression she meant to say something, but decided against it. Instead, she lowered herself further onto him, making herself comfortable on his chest. “We’ll work it out then,” she murmured.

He put an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll work it out when and if we need to. Now, it’s more important you get to do your ROTC Minor. And I’m here to help.”

“I know.” Moira let out a deep sigh. “And, Erik?” She leaned up to kiss his cheek again. “I’m glad you are.”

 

 

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The music in the club Moira’d picked was vibrating deep in Erik’s chest. It wasn’t anywhere near as packed as the clubs they’d usually go to, both the dancefloor and the areas around it, but still decently filled. At the moment, they were standing between the bar and the dancefloor, mostly to look at people.

“What about that red head?” Erik asked, nodding vaguely in the direction of a group by the bar. He had to lean in very close to Moira’s ear to get her to even hear him. Maybe they should get a bit further away from the dancefloor and the music.

She looked over, definitely checking the girl out. Then, she pulled a face.

Erik shrugged. Not his problem if Moira didn’t think she could have some fun for a couple of hours. If anything, it meant he’d get more of her company. Gently, he directed her gaze to another girl that fit her usual criteria, this one busy dancing.

That time, Moira actually stared for a while, watching the girl’s movements closely. In the end, however, she still shook her head.

“You’re awfully picky today,” Erik yelled in her ear. It wasn’t the first time they’d gone to the one explicitly het friendly gay clubs in driving distance. Not that either of them cared much, but it was still comforting to know that if they’d give up and just dance with each other, nobody would take offense. 

“You’re not even looking for youself,” Moira yelled back. She turned him around and pointed at a guy, of whom Erik just registered the neon pink leggings and the neon yellow shirt. 

Aside from the clothes, he looked nice. However… Erik shook his head.

“Oh, come on,” Moira told him. “He looks just like your type. Or are you afraid he might be fun?”

Erik scoffed. He could feel Moira’s hands on his back, ready to push him.

“You go and find out what kind of fun he is,” Moira informed him. “I’ll go and see if I can’t convince that black haired chick at the bar that I’m definitely good fun for an hour or two.” With that, she pushed him and disappeared in the crowd.

Knowing defeat when he’d been dealt it, Erik resigned himself to being left alone for the next hour. Considering past outings, that might even end up a low estimate. It wasn’t all that bad, though. They’d both not come to the club to cling to each other all night, after all. However, he was wondering if Moira’d just picked the most noticeable guy in the club and pointed him out, to better find Erik later. Despite that, she was right. Once Erik could get over the obnoxious outfit, he had to admit the guy looked good.

Sighing inwardly, Erik pushed through the crowd over to the guy. A quick wave, pointing at the dancefloor. The guy eyed Erik up for a moment, then shrugged, making a  _ lead the way _ gesture.

The music on the dancefloor, right where all the speakers were directed, was almost overpoweringly loud. Erik could feel the throb of the bass in every bone, every muscle. It was strangely relaxing. Letting himself fall into rhythm with the music and the crowd around them, he started to dance, moving back and forth and yet still staying close to the guy he’d asked to come with him.

Soon enough, the guy put his hands on Erik. Sometimes his hip, his shoulder, his chest. Groping seemingly at random with the flow of the music. Erik didn’t mind. Up close, the guy’s looks still held up, no matter how obnoxious the colors of his clothes. He danced with a serious attitude, from what Erik could tell. It seemed all designed to project a feeling of “I’m here look at me” and yet the movements were still imprecise, as if he had to fight his own shyness all the time. It was no comparison to how it always was when dancing with Moira. She just radiated all her confidence, all her body control, all the time. Where she would lead with subtle movements if she wanted to get Erik to move along, the guy fumbled and pushed. It wasn’t a bad feeling, not really, as Erik enjoyed the touch, enjoyed touching in return. But it was different, in a good, refreshing way. Just good enough to stay and ignore the time that passed.

Erik didn’t even count songs; a habit he’d usually use to at least have an indicator for time. He didn’t stop the guy when he put an arm around him, nor when the guy put his hand flat on Erik’s ass, feeling him up for… Erik wasn’t sure how long a time. It felt long, but could just as well have been a minute. It was a good touch. A touch Erik leaned into, despite the tiny alarm bell telling him that he wasn’t actually up for more than this kind of groping.

Soon enough, and as Erik had secretly feared, the guy’s other hand touched… just Erik’s thigh at first. But when Erik still didn’t stop him then, the guy grew bold enough to actually cup a feel at Erik’s groin. How well he could feel anything through the jeans he was wearing, Erik wasn’t sure, but he himself could feel the hand just fine. Involuntarily, he took a step back, pushing the guy’s hand away with a firm grip around his wrist and shaking his head no.

The guy looked irritated when his and Erik’s eyes met, but he just shrugged after a moment, dancing on.

Whatever fun Erik’d had was gone by then, however. The moment of irritation, implicating that Erik should feel bad about not wanting to be touched that way, had been enough for that. For a couple of minutes, for one more song, Erik tried to get back into feeling relaxed, but failed. A glance at his watch, too, told him that it had been long enough to go find Moira and pester her again. Somehow, after this moment, he couldn’t think of anything better than… her, in general.

Even pretending to be single, in Erik’s opinion, was shite sometimes.

Subtly and slowly, he let the movement of the crowd drift him away from the guy, who didn’t even give any indication that he noticed. Once off the dancefloor, Erik looked around, feeling a little lost. They hadn’t agreed on any specific meeting spot or time, and while the club certainly wasn’t big enough that he couldn’t find her by searching, it was still a hassle.

He eventually found her, dancing in a tight embrace with the black haired woman she’d pointed out before she’d left. For a while, he just watched, not too keen on disturbing her just because he was pretty much ready to leave for the night. She seemed comfortable and happy, which relieved him. It was enough for him to stay just out of her sight for another song or two, playing along with the one guy confident enough to try flirting with him, despite his lack of intention to allow a follow through.

Eventually, the woman and Moira stopped dancing. Erik watched as Moira was led off the dancefloor. He somehow managed to catch her eye, allowing her to gesture at him that she’d be another five minutes at max, if Erik would please have some patience still, while she let herself be taken over to a quieter part of the club.

It was somewhat longer than five minutes until Moira came back, her lips red, her lipstick smeared at the corners, cheeks flushed, but glowing with happiness. Erik smiled at her when he saw her, holding out his hand when she was close enough to take it. With the hand not used to be pulled close, she held up a small piece of paper with a triumphant smile. It looked like there was a phone number on it, but it was gone before Erik could read the actual number.

“Dance?” Moira mouthed at him, pointing between them and to the dancefloor.

“Home?” Erik mouthed back, yawning for emphasis of his point. He wasn’t tired, but he also wasn’t exactly keen on staying.

“One song,” Moira tried once more. She was already tugging at Erik’s hand.

With a sigh and rolling his eyes, Erik let her. Usually, she knew best and if she didn’t think his mood was beyond saving, she wouldn’t insist.

One song turned into three turned into another hour on the dancefloor. Moira clearly hadn’t gotten to dance enough earlier, getting Erik to play along while she exhausted herself, still smiling bright and happy. Erik knew he’d feel it the next morning, but watching her made up for it in full.

When he was just about to protest that he couldn’t go on anymore, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling herself up so she could kiss his cheek. A moment later, she gently bit his ear. When he looked at her, more surprised than anything, she mouthed something at him. There was clearly more to it, but one of them seemed to include the word home, so Erik nodded.

Outside, in the middle of the night, the air was crisp and felt clear after hours inside the club full of people. It was quieter, too, with the most of the music contained by the walls of the club. Still, they didn’t talk until they were back in Erik’s car.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Moira asked as Erik backed out of the parking spot.

He took his time to answer, concentrated on the narrow lane of the parking lot. When he answered, they were on the road. “Mostly,” he admitted. “Dancing with you was the best part, though.”

“Aw, that guy was no fun?” Moira sounded mostly curious.

“He was,” Erik responded. “Right up until the moment when he decided to get a feel of the goods.”

Moira snorted. “Oh, sorry, I mean, that’s horrible.” She put her hand on his knee and squeezed briefly. “Ass or…?”

“Ass and groin.” Erik pulled a face. “Ass was okay, groin not. He didn’t like it that I stopped him, so… that was that.”

“Too bad, really.” Moira’d taken out the piece of paper again and had started to put the number into her phone.

“You got yourself a new booty call number?” It wasn’t the first time Moira’d managed that. She tended to tell Erik about it after in great detail, which was just about all he asked for. It was rare for her that she’d make use of the numbers, however, mostly claiming that the woman she could call in theory wasn’t too happy with Moira’s desire to inform her fiance about any escapades.

“Oh, yeah, she seems nice, you know.” Moira laughed. “I warned her that I had a boyfriend who’s okay, but I’d still want to ask him should I want to do anything and she just laughed in a  _ it’s totally fine _ way. ...she probably didn’t think I was serious about it.”

“So, but, I mean, would you call her?” To his surprise, Erik couldn’t even picture her face. Body and hair, yes, but not the face, even though he was sure he’d seen it.

Moira shrugged, leaning against the passenger side window. She yawned. “Probably not. Not for sex, at least. Dancing was a bit too slow for my taste, too.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’d to drag me around for another hour back there?” Erik teased.

“That, and to make sure you’re sufficiently tired to actually sleep when we get home,” Moira teased back.

Erik’s grip around the wheel tensed when he could feel Moira’s hand on his inner thigh. Contrary to the touch earlier, this mostly made him hold his breath, eager for more and at the same time desperate not to be distracted from the road ahead too much.

“There’re other ways,” he croaked out.

“I know. But all of them seem like an awful amount of work to prepare.” Moira was idly drawing circles on his thigh now. 

Erik forced himself to breathe. “You could lie back while I blow you. That’s exactly no work on your part.”

“Hmmmmm.” Moira hummed, her finger ceasing to move while she thought about it. “I’d rather not do that without a wash.”

“Cuddling it is, then,” Erik decided. Not that he’d been in the mood for much more in the first place. And, if he was reading Moira right, she wasn’t up for more than teasing, either.

“Cuddling.” Moira yawned. “Cuddling it is.” She patted his thigh one last time before withdrawing her hand. “Anything else can wait until tomorrow.”

 

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

 

Erik was sitting in a leather armchair. He had his phone in one hand, while he tried to dry the sweat off the other on his pants. The study was that of Moira’s father, Lord MacTaggert. He’d been the one greeting Erik at the door when he’d arrived, Moira nowhere to be seen. They’d spend ten minutes of small talk in the study together, before Lord MacTaggert had excused himself and left Erik alone.

Erik felt miserably nervous.

It shouldn’t even be a big deal, yet here he was, driving himself up a wall with his thoughts going around in circles. What if Moira’s relatives outside the nuclear family disapproved of him? What if she had an aunt or a grandmother that was even worse than her mother when it came to sticking to old protocols? What if he, in general, was just deemed not good enough?

Never mind that he’d already passed the worst trial of asking Lord MacTaggert for Moira’s hand. That had been almost a fortnight ago. He could still remember the feel of the thick ledger in his hand with all his papers and finances, a transcript of his degree and a CV, all picked to convince the Lord and Lady MacTaggert that he was suitable for their daughter and able to care for her, as much as he hated the idea of thinking of her like that. Lord MacTaggert had responded with a total lack of surprise to his request. Still, he had studied the papers diligently and for a long time, while Erik had wished, in exactly the same study in exactly the same manner as now, to melt into the ground. In the end, Lord MacTaggert had handed the papers back with a laugh, clapping Erik on the shoulder and calling him son before the actual proposal even.

He put his phone down, in favor of taking out a small velvet box from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. They had agreed on waiting with an engagement ring until this night. It meant he’d have to put it on Moira’s hand in front of an unknown number of people. But it also meant that he would at the very least get half a minute of holding her hand.

He snapped the box open to look at the ring. It hadn’t been cheap and had taken him a while to pick. Moira had refused to help him, claiming she liked the surprise. He looked down at the sparkling diamonds, left and right to a ruby, just short of being too big of being discreet. The ring itself was white gold. He really hoped she’d like it. But there was no way of knowing until he put it on.

Almost an hour after he’d arrived, the door to the study finally opened again. Acting on reflex, Erik got up. It was Lord MacTaggert again, wearing a very apologetic look. He was also carrying two glasses of wine. 

“Oh, please,” he said when he saw Erik’d gotten up. “Sit, sit. I’m terribly sorry to make you wait this long. Some of the other guests have run late and my wife insists that everyone has to be present for the main event.” He handed one of the glasses to Erik. “So, I decided we’ve left you alone long enough. Moira and my wife are perfectly capable of entertaining everyone else without me. Letting you stew like this is just mean.”

Trying not to look as thankful as he was, Erik accepted the glass. Still, he waited until Lord MacTaggert was seated before he sat back down as well. “How’s Mo-” Erik got that far, before he caught himself, remembering that he should be acting like they were a lot less intimate than they were.

Lord MacTaggert smiled knowingly. “Nervous. Wary of disapproval. But holding up well so far. We’ll see, we’ll see.”

Erik relaxed a little. Knowing he wasn’t the only one helped. As did the wine.

“So.” Lord MacTaggert looked Erik up and down. “You somehow managed to convince my daughter that marriage isn’t the end of her life, yes?”

Erik swallowed the first words that came to his mind. Instead, he nodded. “It seems that way.”   
“You know, when my wife told me she’d found a good fit to be Moira’s escort to that… ball… I thought she was just talking it up to me,” Lord MacTaggert chattered. There was no other word for it. He seemed in a chit chatty mood. Not that Erik objected. It made it easier still to relax. “So, what is it about you that fit so well?”

Erik hid his face behind the glass. He couldn’t tell him what he saw as one of the main reasons. He couldn’t just go and out Moira in front of her father. “It’s possibly that I’m just easy to talk to and don’t mind her making her own choices.” It wasn’t an outright lie, but omission didn’t make it true.

“Hm, yes.” Lord MacTaggert squinted. “I have to admit, you’re not exactly what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” Erik was actually curious.

Lord MacTaggert made a vague gesture. “Somebody very different. And I don’t mean in character.”

Erik bit his lip. If he hadn’t known already, it might have been a surprise. With other people than him, that might even had been a reason to call off the engagement. “That’s her choice,” he said flatly.

“That is true,” Lord MacTaggert nodded. “So, you knew. I thought she might have exaggerated.” He winked. “Please don’t tell her mother. She’s so happy her daughter is willing to settle down. Whatever arrangement you have to make it work, keep it from her.”

“I will,” Erik promised solemnly. “It’s our private business anyway.”

Lord MacTaggert raised an eyebrow. “Did I upset you?”

Erik put the half-empty glass down. “No,” he lied. “I’m just… nervous.”

He was saved by a knock at the door, which forced Lord MacTaggert to get up and see what it was about. There was a hushed conversation during which Erik emptied his wine. Then, Lord MacTaggert turned around. “It seems like we’re finally ready to begin,” he informed Erik, beckoning him to come.

Erik was led down a hallway in the more or less public wing of the mansion. Since he’d mostly visited Moira directly in her own rooms and had never been over for a proper dinner before, he wasn’t exactly sure where they were going. He vaguely remembered the direction from his visits to the parlour, where he’d gotten to meet Lady MacTaggert and her husband for the first time. It had also been where they’d had the conversation about the engagement party more than a week ago. However, when they reached the hallway that’d lead to the parlour, Lord MacTaggert turned right instead of left.

Moira was waiting outside the door to the dining hall. At least Erik assumed that that was the room behind the closed double door. She looked relieved when she spotted him, coming a couple of steps toward him even to close the distance more quickly. In greeting, and despite her father watching, she hugged Erik, just long enough to whisper in his ear. “You’d stop me before I murdered my great aunt, right?”

Erik hugged her back for just a moment, much too aware that they weren’t alone and what role was expected of him to be played. Out of her father’s sight, however, he took her hand and squeezed it briefly, hoping that this would suffice to tell her that he would, most likely.

Lord MacTaggert cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

As if she’d just remembered why Erik was here, Moira took a step back, taking her father’s offered arm. Erik remained a step behind as they entered, just as was custom, taking the extra time to mask his nervousness again.

As expected, the large room was full of people, as Moira had to invite all her extended family. Her mother hadn’t allowed for anything less, no matter how hard Moira’d tried to keep the event as small as possible. Had there been any number of conversations as the door opened, however, they quickly died when Moira and her father entered, coming to an anticipatory silence when Erik stepped in. He could feel all eyes resting on him for a moment.

That was, until Lord MacTaggert started speaking, thanking everyone for their coming and welcoming them, before moving on to tell them how happy he thought the occasion was. While he wasn’t half bad as a public speaker, not everyone did him the courtesy of turning towards him while he spoke. Especially noticeable to Erik was the stern, piercing glance of an elderly lady, seated close to Lady MacTaggert at the head end of the table. It was like she tried to turn Erik inside out with her scrutiny, finding whatever flaw she could to prove her already hardened opinion that there had to be something wrong with him. As unnerving as it was, Erik hadn’t almost twenty two years of experience playing the perfect son whenever his parents entertained guests to show her the opening she wanted.

At the same time, he was just glad Lord MacTaggert stood between him and Moira for the time being, providing ample reason not to allow any longing for her touch.

“...celebrate tonight,” was the first words Erik registered when he was listening to the speech again, just in time, as Lord MacTaggert put a hand on his shoulder as he went on: “It’s all to this young man right here, Moira’s financé as of last week, Erik Lehnsherr.”

More out of well trained habit than anything else, Erik indicated a bow as he was introduced. The elderly lady glaring at him seemed displeased of the display of manners, which in turn pleased Erik somewhat.

Giving Erik about half a moment to open his mouth if he wanted to, Lord MacTaggert went on in his speech. “As I am sure you’re all aware it is not only custom to have the groom-to-be presented before the bride’s family first. Custom also demands a ring to be gifted as a symbol of this joyous promise.” 

Lord MacTaggert took a step back, turning in a way that had him practically hand Moira over to Erik right there and then. They briefly looked at each other, just barely suppressing the eye roll they’d exchanged with nobody watching. Then, Moira gave in to the upbringing she so vehemently fought and cast down her eyes.

Erik took the ring box out of his pocket, opening it slowly.

Again, his and Moira’s eyes met for a second, hers full of a dare to him to find out what she’d do if he’d get on his knee to propose with the ring. Knowing protocol, however, Erik’d have remained standing without the threat. He simply took her left hand in his, ring in his right as he slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly, much to Erik’s secret relief. When they looked at each other this time, they allowed each other a tiny smile in the shared knowledge that this meant they’d probably gotten over the worst of the ordeal. The engagement was official.

After this, all of Moira’s younger female relatives flocked around her, admiring the ring and congratulating her. Erik, too, found himself surrounded by well-wishers, mostly men around the age of both their parents, clapping him on the back and welcoming him preemptively to the family. All of them needed polite thanks, Erik knew, especially since he could feel the glare of the elderly lady still on him, even though the small crowd of people between them.

Only after everyone who’d wanted had said their congratulations, Erik and Moira were allowed to sit down. The two seats at the head of the table had been reserved just for them, making it all too clear that until the dinner was over, they were to be the center of all attention. But now that they were seated, at least until the food would be brought, Erik could take Moira’s hand.

They got through the first three courses of the dinner well enough, both because Moira’s mother to Erik’s left was preoccupied talking to the man on her other side and because Moira’s father was entertaining the elderly lady that still occasionally glared at Erik, only that now, she’d also added Moira to her scrutiny list, apparently.

One moment during the salad course, when Erik was sure nobody paid any mind to what they were saying, he asked, “Is that your great aunt you mentioned?” He didn’t exactly specify who he meant, but he didn’t need to.

“The one trying to mind read all the skeletons in your closet out of you?” Moira huffed softly, immediately pretending she’d gotten a bite down the wrong pipe. “Yes.”

“Heaven’s forbid I actually had any.” Erik briefly flashed Moira a smile, making her laugh a little.

“Oh no.” Under the table, she squeezed his hand. “The fact that you agreed to marry me means you  _ have  _ to have dinosaur sized bones in some closet. Or an entire pile. In her mind, as she never tires to remind me, there’s no proper young man who’d ever even consider treating me with all the flaws she sees in me as more than a whore.”

Erik pressed his lips together and shot her a look.

“Oh, shush,” Moira grumbled, adding so softly that it was even hard for Erik to hear. “Penetrative sex is the only kind that counts.”

When Erik reacted to that in the same manner as to the last remark, she pinched the back of his hand in warning. “She wouldn’t believe for a second I could hide any flaw long enough to find me a husband.” Moira rolled her eyes. “She’s been saying that for almost ten years and is now just displeased to be so thoroughly proven wrong.” She ended with a barely noticeable shrug.

“Well, you’re not exactly ready to hide those so called flaws. But, I think I know quite enough of your flaws to make an informed decision on them.” Erik brushed his thumb over the ring on Moira’s finger. “I love you because of, not despite them.”

They finished their salads just in time for the fish. It was around the end of that course when the conversation between Lord MacTaggert and Moira’s great aunt slowly died. Not for the lack of his effort. From what Erik could tell she just let all his attempts at roping her into a topic crash against a metaphorical wall until he stopped trying. Then, free to do as she pleased without seeming too improper, she turned to Moira and Erik. “Moira, darling,” she said, her voice like a honey dripping blade. “Why don’t you introduce me to your lovely fiancé?”

It was only ever so subtle, but Erik could tell Moira was steeling herself for the coming conversation as she put her cutlery down and emphatically slow dabbed her mouth with her napkin before she answered. “Aunt Martha, this is Erik. Erik Lehnsherr.” She paused for a moment. “You remember, he’s the one who accompanied me to the debutante ball.” She turned to Erik for a moment. “Erik, this is my great aunt Martha, from my mother’s side of the family.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Erik said out of reflex, despite feelings to the contrary.

“Hm,” was all great aunt Martha said in acknowledgement. “So you have been walking out together for almost three years now?” From her voice it was clear that she thought that with this much time Erik should have had the brains to run for the hills.

“Yes,” Erik replied. Not a lie per se, just a little stretching of the truth. And, after a moment’s thought, he added, “We thought that waiting for until we were both close to graduation with steps towards a marriage would be the most sensible.”

“Oh, right, Moira got it in her head she should go to college.” Great aunt Martha clicked her tongue. “Back in my day, it was perfectly fine not to do that. But then again, we also got proper boarding schools and not these horrible modern co-educational schools of today.”

From the corner of his eyes, Erik looked at Moira. She’d let go of his hand under the table again, in favor of patting his knee. He took it as a way of telling him to go ahead. “To be frank with you.” He looked her directly in the eye no matter how uncomfortable that usually made him. “We actually talked about this before while we were hashing out the terms of this engagement and I still think she should go to grad school.” A lie, but one Moira would likely help him make reality if need be. “Honestly, your niece is…” He looked at her for a moment, making sure the smile he suppressed was visible long enough for Moira’s great aunt to notice. “Moira’s brilliant. Asking her to abandon academics against her will just wouldn’t be right, not for me personally, nor for the people whose lives I’m sure she’ll influence. Have you even once taken the time to listen to and understand what she’s doing? I know her thesis work and it’s something you really, really should be proud about. Berating her for it?” He shook his head. “That’s just a sad display of ignorance.”

Great aunt Martha sniffled, visibly displeased but too well behaved to say anything out loud to that effect. “Well, I assume she need something in favor of herself. And if it can’t be anything womanly like grace, then intelligence has to do.”

Erik blinked. Of all the things he could imagine anyone accusing Moira of lacking, grace was probably the last. Sure, she could be petty sometimes, but that surely wasn’t what great aunt Martha meant. “How do you mean?” he asked, too surprised to come up with anything.

Great aunt Martha waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, young man. She walks like a man, can’t even wear heels like a proper lady.”

Erik mentally compared that assessment of Moira’s gait and posture to the times when he’d seen her in heels. “I have no idea where you even got that from,” he admitted, dropping even more formality in his speech.

Great aunt Martha levelled a flat look at him. “So you don’t agree?”

“Not at all,” Erik shook his head. “I’d even say Moira knows much better how to walk in heels than I do in any kind of flats.”

A glint of amusement appeared briefly in great aunt Martha’s eyes but it was gone before Erik was able to divine something from it. “Her looks, then,” she went on, squinting at Moira’s face for a moment. “Bland, at best.”

Erik started to get the feeling that this was all some kind of test devised by the old lady. It didn’t stop him from still feeling somewhat upset about it. There was absolutely no reason in his opinion to make Moira listen to be this needlessly put down. “Because of her hair?” Erik couldn’t come up with any other reason. “I’ve never considered as anything anywhere close to bland. Moira’s…” He looked at her, smiling a little longer than he had before. He could look at her all day if it were only up to him. They were holding hands again. “She’s radiating. Confident. Anything, really anything but bland.”

The corner of great aunt Martha’s mouth twitched. “One last question, young man.” She pointed at the hand he was holding his salad fork with. “You’re not really left handed.” It was not a question, in contrary, it was a statement meant to prove they couldn’t really hide anything from her if she didn’t choose to overlook it. She sighed, sounding pleased for the first time. “Holding hands all evening. Young people these days. Back in my days, we eloped when we were actually in love. Instead of going through the hassle of an entire engagement.” She smirked a very dirty old lady smirk. “But then again, these days, the main reason for not waiting doesn’t apply anymore, does it?”

Only when Moira started to gently pat his thigh did Erik realize he’d frozen up from sheer shock. “Aunt Martha!” Moira chided. “This was mean.”

“Mean? Me? Young lady, I’ve known you from the day you were born and you’re the most stubborn talented little liar I’ve ever met in my almost ninety years on this earth.” Great aunt Martha shook her head. Erik understood less and less. “Let an old woman be worried about you, sweety.”

“So, are you pleased now?” Moira sounded displeased. It was accented in the way she drummed her fingers on the back of Erik’s hand under the table.

“Very much so.” Great aunt Martha smirked another toothy smile. “I cannot believe you found yourself somebody just as talented a liar who actually loves you.”

Slowly getting back up to speed with the conversation, Erik cleared his throat. “Was this all a test?”

A sweet look on her face, one that he felt like he’d seen on Moira at her most mischievous before as well, great aunt Martha replied: “But you passed, isn’t that the important part? You even did well.”

Moira let out a long sigh. “Despite everything I told her.” She glared at her great aunt. “She was convinced I’d just picked the smallest evil I could unearth before I’d be just married off to whoever my mother could come up with.”

“You,” was all Erik could think of saying.

“Me,” Moira agreed solemnly.

Feeling relaxed and without pressure like he hadn’t all day, Erik looked at great aunt Martha. “When I asked her out the first time, she turned me down precisely because she thought I was asking for a marriage of convenience.”

Great aunt Martha laughed. “Very well done, Moira.”

Under the table, Moira pinched Erik in retaliation for telling about that detail.

For the rest of the dinner, great aunt Martha entertained herself by telling Erik all the stories from Moira’s childhood she could think of. Once or twice, when he got the feeling Moira’d rather not have him know a particular story, he tried to interrupt, but learned quickly there was no stopping great aunt Martha. Resigned to her fate, Moira even added to some of the stories, filling in details that sounded well rehearsed, like the story itself had been told numerous times already.

When the dinner finally came to an end, it was long past midnight already. Like most guests, great aunt Martha excused herself soon after the cheese for the final course was served, congratulating the newly engaged couple one last time. Erik and Moira on the other hand had to wait long enough to give everyone that wanted a chance to wish them well. By the time they were done, both felt thoroughly exhausted.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to stay over?” Moira asked, despite knowing the answer.

Erik should his head. “Not today.” They were standing just off the side of the front door, getting ready to say their goodbyes to each other. “Too many people watching.”

“You could stay in a guest room,” Moira reminded him anyway.

“Yeah, but I could also just drive the twenty minutes home and sleep in my own bed.” Looking around to make sure nobody was watching them right now, he kissed her cheek. “I’m fine. I can drive.”

“Just making sure.” She shrugged. Her glance fell down to the ring on her finger she’d absentmindedly touched. “I didn’t give you my present yet.”

“You don’t have to give me anything.” The response wasn’t more than a reflex. In truth, Erik was curious.

Moira pulled a face. “It’s up in my room. Stupid dresses with no pockets. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, she turned around and hurried off.

Erik didn’t have to wait as long as he’d first feared. With how quickly Moira was back it was clear she’d had her present in a spot where it had been easy to grab and come back. Looking a bit flushed from the hurry, Moira brushed a stray lock from her face when she came to a stand again.

“Here,” she said, holding out a small, silver box.

Erik took it, turning it around to get a good look at the filigrane engraving. He couldn’t help a smile when he realized that on one side, the engraving was clearly the molecular structure of his prefered compound metal when doing constructions. It was clearly a cigarette case, a bit old fashioned but precisely the kind of present allowed under the circumstances given. When he turned it again, something inside made a dull rattling sound.

“Don’t open until you’re alone,” Moira whispered in his ear. “Promise.”

“I promise.” Knowing her, Erik wasn’t taking chances on whatever she’d put inside the case. “But, is that to mean you’re giving up trying to get me to stop smoking.”

Moira snorted. “No, it’s a devious plan to make you carry around less cigarettes. In the hopes I could at least get you to smoke less.”

“I already smoke much less,” Erik protested.

“I know.” Moira smiled softly. “And I appreciate the effort.”

Erik stifled a yawn.

“Still no on the room?” she asked.

Erik shook his head. “Still no. But I should get going.”

Moira nodded, hugging him tight for a moment. Erik returned the hug, holding her close for a long minute. If only he wouldn’t have to let go again. When they let go again, they looked each other in the eyes briefly, before they moved in for a kiss almost simultaneously.

“I really need to get going,” Erik panted a sweet eternity later.

Moira just nodded.

Still, they kissed one last time before Erik left.

In the privacy of his car, twenty-five minute later and parked in the garage of his parent’s mansion, Erik opened the cigarette case. Inside, Moira had placed a black rubber ring, about two inches in outer diameter. Erik closed the case again without taking it out. He put the case slowly into the inner pocket of his jacket. Then, he leaned his forehead on the wheel, waiting to calm down enough again to get out of the car.

 

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

 

It had started to get dark. Erik was distantly aware the light had gone from an orange tinted gold to a more dim blue hue. He was kneeling between Moira’s legs, on the thick fuzzy carpet their couch stood on. It had been comfortable an hour or two ago, but by now, he mostly couldn’t feel his legs below the knees anymore. Pins and needles, however, had yet to set in.

Behind his back, the tv switched on, and a moment later, he could hear the narrator of a nature documentary.

When Moira bent down to hug him around the shoulders with one arm, he closed his eyes. His head had been resting on her thigh for a while already. He could feel her fumble around his wrists for a moment, before something dropped to the floor behind him with a muffled thud. He didn’t move, not then, not when she sat back up again and not even when she combed a hand through his sweaty hair, scratching his scalp just hard enough to be pleasant still.

For a while longer, she allowed him to stay as he was, with her hand in his hair, petting him, reminding him she was still there and cared. He kept his eyes closed. He felt tired to the bone. All he wanted at the moment was sleep right where he was.

Eventually, the voice of the speaker in the tv changed. Erik was dimly aware they must have moved on to another program but he could be bothered to move himself.

“Erik,” Moira said softly. It could be another while later or right when the next documentary had started. Erik couldn’t tell.

When he didn’t react, she repeated his name again. “Erik,” she said, louder this time.

He knew he should give at least some indication that he heard her, but that meant an effort he could not bring himself to make. 

“Erik,” she repeated a third time, now tugging his hair a little. “Are you asleep?”

He blinked an eye open for a moment, then closed it again. The room had gotten dark, but the light from the tv alone made it too bright. Instead of looking at her, he made a small grunt.

“You have to move your arms, love,” she murmured. Her hand left his hair, which he acknowledged with a disappointed sigh. She bent over again, hugging him again when he didn’t react. Her mouth close to his ear, she said, “Can you at least lift your arm for me?” She’d already put her hand on his shoulder and the other around his arm. It didn’t take much from Erik to let her lift his arm. His other arm he just let limply hang down for the moment.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Moira instructed as she started to rub his arm to get the circulation going some more.

Erik nodded, almost ready to doze off again.

Moira took her time, making sure Erik’s arm was cared for after the strain she’d put on them all evening, before she moved onto the other. It meant that Erik had to move, too, at least switching sides so she could lift the other arm and give it the same treatment. When she was done, she kissed his forehead.

“Do you think you can stand up?” she asked.

Erik made a noncommittal noise. The massage had somewhat gotten him closer to full consciousness again, but that only meant that he now remembered for how long he had been kneeling. “Probably?” His voice sounded even raspier than he’d feared. But at least the syllables came out right, despite his mouth and especially his tongue still feeling somewhat numb.

“Do you need help?” Moira was already holding out her hand for it before she’d even said anything.

Erik nodded, grateful. Standing up was awkward, even with her assistance. His legs didn’t feel like they would cooperate, nor like he should expect to stand on them for more than a minute. He could feel the blood flowing into the parts of his body that had been neglected by it for the past while. Weirdly enough, only as he was standing up did he realize just how numb his legs felt. It made him all the more thankful for Moira’s hand on his hip, stabilizing him.

“How about you come sit down on the couch with me?” Moira asked in a soft tone. Her thumb was rubbing over his hip bone. “You could put your legs across my lap and watch tv? And I’ll give you another massage.”

Erik considered it for a moment. The offer was tempting. But, still, he shook his head. “Lemme stand a bit first.” He cleared his throat, trying to get it to feel less dry. “And maybe get something to drink, too.”

“But after that, you’ll let me take care of you some more?” He could hear both her smile and her worry in her voice without having to look at her. She always worried about him after. He let her, as part of an unspoken agreement. If he was being honest, he’d come to like it, even.

“As soon as I have something to drink, we’ll do what you said.” Erik smiled when she looked at him. Standing up really had done him some good in finding a second wind, or at least enough energy to not want to go straight to bed anymore. “Do you want some, too? I can bring two glasses instead of one.”

Moira nodded. “Don’t take too long or I’ll have to come looking.”

“I won’t.” He might have rolled his eyes, but that was just because he knew she actually would.

He didn’t take much longer than he’d normally would to get a bottle of water and two glasses. Both of which he handed Moira as soon as he was back in their living room. She’d moved from the middle of the couch to one end while he was gone, leaving him ample room to actually half sit and half lie on the it with his legs across her lap. She waited until he’d settled down before she handed him a full glass of water.

“You scared me for a moment there,” Moira said after a long while.

Erik turned his head so he could look at her instead of the tv.

“I thought I’d really overdone it,” she went on, slapping him lightly on the outer thigh. “Don’t do that, ever again. When you didn’t respond the second time… What, exactly do you expect me to do?”

“Put me to bed?” Erik yawned. He was too tired to have an actual discussion about it right now. They needed one, probably, but as he saw no pressing problem for the moment, it could just as well wait until the morning. “Or just leave me here and put a blanket over me, should work fine, too.”

“Oh yeah, great, I just let you sleep on the floor next time, good plan.” Moira grumbled, but she also realized that he wasn’t up for a discussion. “Just tell me stop next time, Erik.”

“But I liked it,” he protested. “There was no point when I wanted to say stop.”

“Well,” she huffed. “But still.”

“Does it help if I tell you I still love my wife even if she puts me through my paces sometimes?”

“A little.”

Erik smiled. “I love you. A lot.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh. “I love you too. ...but I think you know that by now.”

“I still like to hear it every now and again.” Erik turned so he was sitting up, shuffling over so he could lean on her. He shivered. It was getting a bit too cold to be completely naked.

Moira noticed it, too. “Shower, then bed?”

“Half an hour more here and then the shower bed thing?” Again, Erik yawned. “Or straight to bed? I promise I’ll do the laundry tomorrow.”

“It’s your turn anyway,” Moira snorted. “I did it last week.”

He leaned up to kiss her temple.

“Bribery and flattery will get you…” Moira shook her head, sighing. “Far too far, actually.” She’d put an arm around his shoulder so he decided it was okay if he put one of his around her waist.

“You just taught me well how to charm a girl.” It was easy from his position leaned against her side to kiss her neck. He’d made her laugh, which caused a warm feeling in his chest, still, after a good seven years of actually being married.

“You still asked me about my birthday!” she said mock indignant. “How dare you remind me that I’m aging!”

“It’s in three weeks,” he replied. “You did get to make a fuss over mine, I demand retaliation.”

“By asking me what I want to do?”

“It’s still time to book a short trip out of town, escape the family party and all that.” Erik smiled. They hadn’t missed any of the bigger parties either of their parents had thrown, not since the year before their wedding. He knew Moira wouldn’t take him up on it.

“You could gift me a vacation,” she mused. “And no, we’re not skipping town just to avoid relatives.”

“Too bad.” Erik shrugged. “A vacation as a gift might be doable, though.”

“One for me alone, please.” Moira smirked. “I need time off my beloved husband.”

Erik shook his head. “No, if I don’t get to skip family events, you’re not getting out of enduring me during your vacation.”

“Oh no, what horrible fate.” She kissed him. “Then, I’ll just have to spend an entire vacation with the man I love.”

“You must have done something terribly wrong at one point to be cursed with such a fate,” Erik played along, grinning.

“You know? I think I know what that was.” She allowed to kiss him before she went on. “I asked to lead at a ball.”


End file.
